Seek and You Will Find
by Carys Langley
Summary: AU, Atobe x Tezuka, In which two men are bound by inexplicable loneliness, but when Fate throws them a second chance, suddenly, there is a light at the end of the tunnel.


**Seek and You Will Find**

[AU, Atobe x Tezuka] In which two men are bound by inexplicable loneliness, but when Fate throws them a second chance, suddenly, there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

* * *

**A/N: **If this looks a lot like Simple Solace to some of you, it is because it is...or what it used to be, anyway. I took it down and decided to post it as a full one-shot instead of a short multi-chap, to me, it just feels better that way. And New Year is incorporated into it, so that gives me enough of an excuse, although it's not exactly the traditional New Year now haha. Please let me know what you think. (And yes, I realize that this story's characterization might put off some of you, but seriously, this thing wrote itself...x.x)

* * *

Something about Christmas carols just got on Atobe's nerves. Perhaps it was because they started the same old songs every day the last week of November, and it didn't _matter_ one bit if all the tunes were branded as 'old classics'--because that was all they were, _old _classics.

But there was something else that annoyed him to no end. Something that was even much more of an eyesore (earsore?) than Christmas carols repeating themselves incessantly on the radio. Or...rather, more accurately, that someone was endlessly annoying, no matter what time of the year it was. Atobe only retained him as an unofficial (but still ridiculously paid) gopher because Oshitari Yuushi had proved himself more than useful.

But Oshitari also proved himself something else much less savory, he was annoying as hell. Atobe knew his gopher knew it too, because he was Oshitari, and no other reason. Oshitari could have decided to move on to some higher purpose, but no.

For some oddly despicable reason, being able to sneer at him every morning was something Oshitari genuinely _enjoyed_. The bastard. He enjoyed it so much that he even gave up several lives that he should have had, and consented to be Atobe dog—sometimes, much worse. Atobe made damned sure of it.

"What do you _want_?" Because nothing in the rulebook said that Atobe had to be nice when he didn't feel like being nice. It was an extremely childish aspiration to follow, but no one ever said he had to change.

Looking superbly undeterred and cleanly pressed in a fresh slate suit, Oshitari Yuushi strolled into his office with undisguised confidence and slid a large unassuming envelope on his desk.

"What's this?" Atobe said, taking care to make sure that his voice sounded completely void of interest.

"...What you asked for."

It was the answer he was always given. Because Oshitari was just that lazy, and because every time, his answer proved true. Why waste words?

"Fine." Atobe swiped the packet of his desk and set it in a drawer, which locked automatically. He had his desk replaced a few months ago, but found that he was endlessly fond of this auto-locking mechanism and therefore, tried to use it as much as possible.

When Oshitari didn't move after several minutes, Atobe was forced to ask, "...Did you need something else from me?"

Oshitari smirked. It was a smirk that could have easily matched Atobe's own, the years had also been kind to Oshitari Yuushi. And Atobe found that he hated it.

"Ah, so you haven't heard?"

Atobe glared at him, "Heard what? I haven't spoken to Julia this morning, if that's what you mean."

"Really, you hurt my feelings." Oshitari folded himself into a plush armchair some twenty odd paces away. "You think I consider _Julia_ a reliable source." His face scrunched briefly into a grimace, and then his smirk was back again. "I thought you thought better of me than that, boss."

Atobe rolled his eyes. He had tried to be discreet about his on and off trysts with Julia, who worked in accounting, but trust Oshitari to sniff out everything he wasn't supposed to. "Is it something that's worth my time to know?" He crossed his arms and tried to sound bored again.

"It might be." Articulate as ever, Oshitari chose that exact moment to rise from his seat, even though he had just sat down. "But seeing as how you're so dreadfully busy, I'll bother you another time."

Because he had too much pride, Atobe let him leave.

-

There was something inevitably wrong with this picture. But it became the only picture he knew of, and as Atobe pulled his Italian imported car into one of the mansion's four garages, he realized that he had forgotten how to fix it. The years had lost the mansion its glamour, and it sat at the end of the street like a haunted house.

Even though it wasn't, Atobe spent more than enough money on its upkeeping, the grass was always green and cleanly cut. There were freshly watered gardenias that bordered the winding path to the door. Atobe took out his key and inserted it neatly into the lock. After that, he had to punch in a four digit code.

Inside, it was neat too, he hired two housekeepers to clean it every other day. What they might have stolen from him wasn't of any importance because Atobe didn't miss anything. But the house was still empty and dark every time he came home.

Sometimes he filled it with women, and lots of liquor. Though as time passed, he found that women were tiring and expensive (even for him) and alcohol only made you forget...sometimes. Sometimes was not enough.

Atobe made his rounds in the house, switching on lights in all the rooms, even rooms on the second floor, but even with that, it became even creepier. But it wasn't anything he wasn't used to.

His phone twitched in his pocket. Oshitari.

It was so like his dog to bug him after office hours.

"What the hell do you want _now_?"

The other end sounded noisy, Atobe fought the urge to roll his eyes again. It was so like Oshitari to try to harass him while calling from a club.

"I wanted to apologize for getting smart with you this morning." Oshitari said, sounding surprisingly sincere, "...And no, before you ask, Rena didn't blackmail me into calling. What I had to say this morning was actually kind of important. Will you listen to me now?"

Atobe started. Rena was Oshitari's fiancée, she was a no-nonsense woman with great legs to boot. "...I've no reason not to."

"Tezuka's back." Oshitari said, "He's been back ever since last week, and we invited him to dinner. I wanted to mention it to you earlier." He paused, "...I mean, I thought it'd be fitting to ask if you wanted to drop by. I know you never eat dinner."

Tezuka was back. Atobe's gut twisted, as if someone had splintered it into a million irrecoverable pieces. The fact that Oshitari knew he often skipped dinner only added salt to the wound.

"Atobe, you there?"

Atobe bit his lip, "...Just Tezuka?" He clarified.

"Yeah, just Tezuka."

Something hit him that he couldn't quite explain away. Relief, maybe. Atobe shifted the phone to his other ear, "All right, then, I guess it wouldn't hurt. Where then?"

-

The eatery was small, but quaint and classy. Before the waiter could ask him whether or not he had a reservation, Atobe spotted Oshitari and Rena at a table for four by the window and headed over to them. How curious that Oshitari knew ahead of time that there would be four people even before asking him.

Rena smiled encouragingly at him while Oshitari just smirked, they made such a perfect couple that it just made Atobe want to vomit. It was disgusting, and—a cynical little voice, which had taken residence in his head a few years ago and since then, had never bothered to leave interrupted him.

_But you've seen worse, haven't you?_

Of course he had. Atobe nodded curtly at the both of them, "Where's the honored guest of the hour?"

Oshitari shrugged one shoulder, "Probably stuck in traffic. It's dinnertime in Tokyo and he called me a couple minutes ago saying that he might be late."

Tezuka was never late. Not even when he gave himself leave to be. Though Atobe kept the little tidbit to himself. Instead, he ignored Oshitari asking Rena how her day had been, and studied the menu. The menu held mostly foreign foods, most of which Atobe recognized.

He couldn't say that for the pale, gaunt man that strode to their table after a couple of minutes. But he wasn't pale and gaunt for lack of money, Atobe knew that by Tezuka's state of dress, he wore luxury brand clothing, but even that couldn't hide what he sought to hide. The lenses hiding his eyes seemed to have grown thicker, but then again...Atobe had to remind himself that it had been years.

Oshitari was on his feet and he had Tezuka were shaking hands.

Atobe watched them, as if watching through a sheet of glass. He only came to when Oshitari spoke, "This is Yamazaki Rena, my fiancée. We were engaged last month."

Rena stood up, and offered her hand to Tezuka. He took it dutifully (gently), and said softly, "Congratulations."

Atobe felt a lump form in his throat, even his voice had changed. He couldn't say exactly how, but he was pretty positive at this point that the stranger in front of him was merely a very good impostor, who wore Tezuka's face—or what was left of it, at least.

"And guess who this is?" Oshitari had the

Tezuka looked at him for a long minute, and Atobe found himself drowning in dark fathomless pools. Although instead of drowning in warm silken water, it felt like his throat was being engulfed by sparks of ice.

"Hello, Atobe."

Atobe swallowed thickly as he got to his feet, "Tezuka."

It was Tezuka that held out his hand for Atobe to shake, and Atobe shook it mutely.

Tezuka said, "You look well."

The other man's face was lined with years that he had yet to live, although that merely made him look even more distinguished. But Atobe still preferred the Tezuka who was ingrained in his memory, when his face had been sun kissed and open. He had been nineteen years old, and ready to face the world.

"So do you."

-

Dinner was...awkward. Well, it wasn't like Atobe expected much from it. Oshitari though, largely saved the reunion from grinding to a painful halt because he never stopped talking, and when he did pause to eat, Rena took over. They were both accomplished socialites, like they should be. Like Atobe should be too, except he couldn't bring himself to relive the days of the past.

But then, it was over. They all stood up, and Atobe tried not to watch the way that Oshitari helped Rena put on her jacket. He looked to Tezuka again, "...How are you getting back?" He asked, hoping he sounded casual.

"I'm calling a cab." Tezuka replied.

"Don't." The word slipped too easily from Atobe's mouth, and by the time he had thought to recall it; it was too late already. "...I'll take you."

"I don't want to be an inconvenience." Tezuka said, sounding sincere like always.

Atobe tried not to notice the way Oshitari and Rena were snickering, and shook his head, "You won't be. Come on."

-

"You got a new car." Tezuka said, quite unnecessarily as he buckled himself in.

"What do you think? The last time you saw me, I was nineteen." Atobe rolled his eyes, "This car's three years old." He backed out of the parking lot slowly, "Where are you staying?"

"The Millennium Hotel. It's three blocks from here." Tezuka glanced out the window, "Do you mind if I smoke?"

"I know where that is..." Atobe whipped his head around and stared, "What?"

"I want to smoke." Tezuka repeated, "May I?"

Somehow, Atobe didn't take Tezuka for the type to take up such a destructive habit. And yet...this wasn't the Tezuka that had left, so long ago. He turned his head quickly back to the road, "...Sure. Open a window."

Tezuka did, and Atobe watched the way that the other man lit a cigarette, the motion was smooth and practiced, polished.

Several moments passed, Atobe thought about turning on the radio. In the end, he decided against it, because he realized he didn't know what kind of music Tezuka liked. So he said, tentatively, "You...you didn't used to smoke."

"...No."

Atobe turned a corner, and saw Tezuka blow smoke out the window, sending a white wisp of smoke out into the darkening night. He didn't know why, but just watching that made his stomach lurch.

"...It isn't...like you." He found no other words to say.

Tezuka looked at him, and Atobe shuddered. Even without wearing an expression, Tezuka looked deeply remorseful, and Atobe found himself wish that he hadn't asked.

"I know."

-

The Millennium Hotel was a nice hotel, and since it was only a little ways away from where he lived, Atobe had never spent a night in it. So it was only that, curiosity, that led him to accept Tezuka's invitation to "come up for a little while, if you have time."

That, and he had plenty of time. Tezuka had extinguished his cigarette prior to going in the hotel lobby, but the faint stink of smoke still lingered on him. It wasn't a smell that he wore well, Atobe doubted that it was a smell that anyone could wear well, even if the said person was suave, charismatic, charming. Tezuka was none of those.

And yet...

Yet he found himself intrigued by the way Tezuka turned the key in his room, he found the small careful action fascinating. Tezuka opened the door and stepped in first, slipping off his shoes.

"Come in."

Atobe was surprised by what he saw. He saw a neat, orderly room, with a suitcase in one corner, a few books on the end table. And only one bed, it was a bed big enough for two people, but Atobe had yet to see another person. He looked to Tezuka.

"Tezuka--"

"...I came by myself." Tezuka answered, even without his asking. "Feel free to sit down."

Atobe did, he sat down in one of the two armchairs that faced each other with a table in between. He turned his head and watched Tezuka brew coffee.

"Do you still take cream and no sugar in your coffee?"

The questions surprised him, Atobe expected Tezuka to know nothing about how he liked his coffee, he said, "I take sugar from time to time."

"Now?"

"Why not?" Atobe shrugged one shoulder.

Tezuka set one cup in front of him, Atobe gave it an experimental sip and found it for the most part agreeable. He watched Tezuka sip his coffee with the same precise manner that painted all of him.

"Tezuka."

Tezuka looked up.

"Do you still take your coffee with nothing in it?"

That earned Atobe a dry sound, that sounded something like an amused snort, but he couldn't be altogether sure. "Yes, how'd you guess?"

"You seemed like the type to..." Atobe drifted off, "...not change?"

He felt lame for saying it. It was most certainly not true. This Tezuka that sat in front of him had changed, though at the same time, he was familiar, and a stranger. This Tezuka looked at him with bitter mirth welling in his eyes, and Atobe thought he wore bitterness even worse than he wore the stench of smoke.

"I've learned a few things."

Atobe said, "We all have."

Tezuka didn't say anything.

At last, Atobe was forced to break the silence again, when he opened his mouth, it felt like he was prying a lid off a rusted jar with a wrench that refused to work. "So...are you still living in Berlin?"

"I've been all over." Tezuka said, closing his eyes briefly, "...But I always come back to Berlin, I spent two months in Vienna recently."

This surprised Atobe, he thought of Tezuka as a steady rock, who would refused to budge from a place that he loved and cherished. Berlin was that place, precisely because—he blinked, "...You've been..." The single pronoun hadn't passed him by, but for some reason, it was _odd_.

"What were you doing in Vienna?"

"Soul searching."

Atobe blinked again. He looked down at his coffee, which gazed back at him in a dark creamy swirl. "Did you find anything?"

"I don't know."

Tezuka never said 'I don't know', the Tezuka Kunimitsu that was imprinted in Atobe's memory always knew what he wanted, what he needed, what he had. A Tezuka who didn't know something might as well not be Tezuka at all. Atobe looked at him.

Atobe reluctantly changed the subject, "What do you do now?" After all, Tezuka had to have a well off career to have been all over in Europe. His tennis had been impressive, but Atobe found it hard to believe that Tezuka would pursue a career like that and take up smoking on the side.

But then, Atobe supposed that if he had, it wouldn't have been all that surprising. Tezuka Kunimitsu in himself, was a strange and wondrous phenomenon.

"I'm a physical therapist. The institution that I work for sends me to different clinics all over Europe." Because Tezuka was good at what he did, though as always, Tezuka was modest to a fault

Atobe raised an eyebrow, "I thought you were soul searching."

Tezuka looked from him to the window, "I was. But soul searching is tiring business. Physical therapy is something that I enjoy doing."

Somehow, Atobe fought the urge to snort. It was too much like Tezuka to see physical therapy as enjoyable...but then, Atobe supposed that he would know.

Tezuka's next question caught him by surprise.

"What about you?"

Atobe sipped his coffee. "What about me? Haven't I turned out the way you expect me to be?"

Tezuka studied him, his eyes so darkly intense that Atobe almost flinched. "Not quite."

"Why?"

Ever tactful, Tezuka ventured, after another careful sip of coffee, "...Oshitari's engaged."

Oh. _That_. Everyone always wondered about that. And then Atobe had to wonder why everyone wanted to be so stupid. It wasn't as if he hid it intentionally. And it wasn't as if Tezuka, of all people, bothered to hide it. "I think Rena's good for him." He said neutrally.

"That's not what I meant."

It stung, it was sharp, and something in Atobe started bleeding. He wasn't quite sure what. Atobe couldn't bring himself to look Tezuka in the eye. "My father passed a year and a half ago, he was old, and still took his wine every morning. He was just asking for it." He shook his head, "...I didn't expect my mother to follow him." He skipped the inevitable obvious then, and shrugged one shoulder, "I don't have a reason for that."

For a long moment, Tezuka was still, and then he bowed his head in a prayerful nod. "I'm sorry."

And for some reason, the sentiment made Atobe's stomach lurch again, and for a moment, he thought about making a beeline to Tezuka's bathroom. But he steeled himself and shrugged again, "It doesn't matter. Makes things easier, actually. Now I don't have to get married."

"...Why?"

Atobe wished he had kept his mouth shut. He studied the various lines of his palm, "...I like being by myself."

He watched Tezuka chew on his bottom lip, as if facing an Atobe Keigo under self imposed isolation was something that he hadn't at all expected. At length, he took a precise sip his coffee and looked at Atobe again, as if he was waiting for an elaboration.

"Despite what the general population claims of me, I do like my privacy sometimes."

Tezuka's expression claimed disbelief, as if Atobe Keigo and privacy were never meant to go together. Atobe, on the other hand, could have said just as much for Tezuka and cigarettes.

-

A week passed, and Atobe was nursing one of his near-holiday migraines, brought on by endless meetings with foreign executives, and even more Christmas carols. He felt out of sorts, not unlike Scrooge from the Christmas novella, that everyone compared him to. It was just a bit irritating.

It was with great trepidation, that a secretary peeked inside his office, "Erm, Atobe-san."

He looked at her.

"What?"

"There's this...person outside." The secretary stared at her manicured nails as she spoke, "He didn't make an appointment, but he said you'd see him if I told you who he was..."

Atobe felt a vein in his forehead throb. "Please tell me it's not Oshitari trying to prank me." Oshitari did that, sometimes. He was an old dog, but he prided himself on his ability to learn new (and more often than not annoying) tricks.

"It's not. It's Tezuka Kunimitsu." She reported, "And I think he bought you lunch. You haven't eaten yet, have you?"

"It's who?" Atobe blinked, positive that he had heard wrong,

"It's a Tezuka-san." The girl clarified with a mischievous little grin that shouldn't be there. "He bought you lunch."

Only because he bought lunch, and Atobe found that he was just a little bit hungry. It wasn't because Atobe's stomach lurched at the prospect of seeing Tezuka again.

"Send him in."

On cue, Tezuka strode in, and the secretary minced out, brushing her hand rather incidentally by Tezuka's shoulder. Even though the other man hadn't seemed to acknowledge the touch, Atobe recorded it and somehow, it didn't fit in with the rest of the tidbits he had kept about Tezuka. But as the secretary promised, Tezuka carried a plastic bag.

Atobe merely looked at him, "...What'd you bribe her with? Your face?"

The Tezuka in his memory would have been offended, insulted, even. But this one just shrugged one shoulder and deposited the bag on Atobe's desk. "Maybe." Tezuka opened up the bag and got out two warm sandwiches from the Greek deli from a block away—one of the very few delis that had the rare honor of Atobe's approval. "I brought you something."

"Why?"

Tezuka studied him, until Atobe flinched, and stared hard at the sandwich that sat in front of him. "You look emaciated, and I really didn't want us to end on a bad note like last time." He glanced pointedly to a chair. "May I sit?"

--

When he went home from the office that night, Atobe was struck with a sudden sense of nostalgia and Atobe was inspired to go dig around in his study until he came upon his high school yearbook, which was a bit dusty, but otherwise in good condition and flipped to the last few pages where all the well wishes scrawled in illegible handwriting were.

Atobe had still been a legend then. But now he couldn't exactly say he missed it.

He settled into an armchair and flipped through the pages until he came to the very last page, a page that only held two neat signatures. Tezuka had written, as only his philosophical, too grown up, high school senior self would:

_Atobe--_

_You know without me telling you that you will aspire to great heights, but sometimes the heights get lonely and you might want to look down. I promise it isn't so bad after a while. Thank you for offering your invaluable friendship. _

_--Tezuka Kunimitsu (5-15-2000) _

No one wrote like that, not when they were young and eighteen and had the world to conquer before them. The words on the page belonged to a wise, old man that lived too many years. Yet it was the only message in the entire yearbook that Atobe came back to, over, and over again.

And right below that, in a much more childish hand, the person that Atobe had hated more than anyone in the world, had written:

_Atobe! When you're rich and famous, remember me, okay? _

_--Fuji Syusuke (5-15-2000)_

He usually read that one on accident. And sure, he remembered Fuji Syusuke, for all of the wrong reasons that only Atobe himself would ever know.

--

--

He hadn't wanted it to end like last time, or so Tezuka said, But Atobe had become more and more of a cynic over the years, and he hadn't believed it. Tezuka was probably back in Europe, surrounded by all the things that Atobe would have given him in the blink of an eye had Tezuka even thought enough of him to ask.

But of course he hadn't. Tezuka had everything he wanted. Whether or not Atobe was willing to give him all of those things did not matter.

It was inevitable, Atobe supposed, come Christmas Eve and snug in his favorite armchair, alone in the mansion, though all the lights were lit. He had a small modest stack of Christmas cards in his lap, most of them from other countries. From family members that had escaped the curse of wealth, leaving him alone. They all wished that he would come visit, though, it wasn't like he didn't have the money.

Oshitari had gone on a Christmas holiday with Rena. Atobe had given them personal leave to go, and they usually thanked him by sending him some small trinket from an exotic location. This time, it was a bracelet from Barcelona.

There was also a custom-made postcard of the two of them looking so happy, it made Atobe just want to claw out his eyes. Though he forced himself to read about how much fun they were having until the last two paragraphs.

The last card though, was one that he had both expected and not. Usually, it contained two signatures, but now, it had only one.

It said, as always (the message never changed):

_Merry Christmas from Berlin_

_-Fuji Syusuke_

Atobe stared at the plain card in mild disbelief. He had gotten so used to seeing the two names side by side that the one name looked a little lost there on the card, at least, to Atobe. But he knew it was a fact, that Fuji Syusuke was a name, and a person, that stood well enough on his own.

It was almost unbelievable. Unforgivable.

Before he could start feeling sick to his stomach, Atobe journeyed to the kitchen and fetched a large bottle of unopened cognac.

--

The days dragged by, slow and unending. The Christmas hangover plagued Atobe for days, and this rendered him irritable, and he snapped at Oshitari all the time. Oshitari, on the other hand, found it a sport to jab back about his superior's lack of an alcoholic tolerance every time he had a chance until Atobe threatened to have him shot.

Oshitari just gave him a look.

"You're just ticked off because you haven't been getting any." He reasoned smoothly, thumbing through a thick file. "Why don't you give Tezuka a call so that both of you can stop moping around?"

"Because everything is not solved by jumping into bed with anyone who is mildly attractive." Atobe slammed a fist down on the table. "I thought you grew up. Besides..." And here, he sounded almost wistful as he made his way over to the window, "...It's going to look very strange if I just upped and left to fly to Berlin, even if I did employ the talented likes of you."

That just earned him another strange look, "...So says the grand advocate of casual sex. You never cease to amaze me, boss." Oshitari patted the file, "Just call him up, as far as I know, he's considering moving back to Tokyo for good...I even found him a good real estate agent, Shishido's been showing him apartments."

Reading the glint in his eyes, Atobe rolled his eyes, "Shishido?"

"Why not?" Oshitari tipped a hand to his glasses, "He's got a good thing going.

Atobe didn't say anything.

Oshitari joined him in the silence, and Atobe hadn't even noticed the man standing right beside him until he looked up and saw two shadows in the glass instead of just one. Oshitari's hand was unexpectedly gentle on his shoulder.

"Look, you're the last person that I thought would be miserable like this. If you wouldn't be so stubborn, such a gentleman, you would have turned out otherwise." Oshitari said evenly, "Maybe you should, you know, be selfish. It doesn't matter that you were an asshole who knew how many years ago, it's not like anyone remembers...or cares."

"You remember." Atobe pointed out.

"But I'm an asshole just like you. And I'm different. I remember these things so I can rip on you and make your life miserable." Oshitari said with a shrug. "He's not like that."

Once again, all Atobe could offer was silence.

Oshitari sighed, "...I'm just trying to be a friend, okay? You shouldn't be miserable all the time." And then

--

Tezuka was in Tokyo, and here to stay, according to Oshitari. Fuji, on the other hand, was on another continent altogether, and judging by the Christmas card that sat on Atobe's mantle, seemed happy that way. Atobe supposed he really was noble, because he felt guilty for a circumstance that really had nothing to do with him whatsoever.

A week passed, and when Atobe glanced up at the calendar, he saw that it was December thirty-first, New Year's Eve. He was never the type to make New Year resolutions, since he knew they would all be inevitably broken anyway, but this was a new year, a bit of optimism never hurt anyone.

But he had to down a half glass of cognac for courage, and then Atobe fetched the yellow pages and dialed the Millennium Hotel, asking for the guest in Suite 1021.

Atobe had to wait three endless rings until the other line picked up, and a tired voice said, "Hello?"

Then all at once, Atobe felt guilty. "It's...Atobe. Did I wake you up?"

"...No. I was just getting to sleep, actually. I didn't expect you to call."

Atobe thought, neither did I. But he soldiered on, "...You're going to sleep already? It's barely ten."

"I turn in early." Was the monotone answer he received for his troubles, "That's one thing that hasn't changed about me."

There was another lump forming in Atobe's throat. He forced it down. "...What else hasn't changed?"

"I still get up early."

Early. That vaguely reminded Atobe of the morning of a physics final they had to take. Apparently, Tezuka thought that it was normal for other people to wake at ungodly hours and study. He had roused Atobe...and Fuji both up at four-forty-five in the morning, in order to study. He was too sleepy to remember what came after.

"...Four-forty-five?" He ventured helpfully.

There was a long pause, "...That was an accident."

Atobe snorted, "I bet that just slipped your mind, right? That everyone else has the human need for sleep."

"It doesn't hurt to study." Tezuka said defensively.

"Of course not. At four-forty-five in the morning though, I'd beg to differ." Atobe smirked, in spite of himself, "Do you want to come over?"

"Are you having a party?" Tezuka's tone was wary.

Atobe supposed the request mirrored that one time where Tezuka had explicitly said that he hadn't wanted his friends to throw him a birthday party...and Fuji had gone against his wishes and used Atobe's house as bait.

"Honestly, I stopped having those a while ago, I hate cleaning up. It's just you, and it's just me."

"Really." Tezuka still sounded unconvinced, and almost rightfully so.

"Honest. And I told you, didn't I? I like being by myself."

"I don't understand that."

"You should." Atobe said shortly, "Are you coming or not?"

--

Tezuka seemed surprised to see him open his own door, the first thing out of his mouth, was not, a greeting, instead, it was, "Where's Morishita-san?"

Of course, Atobe was a bit miffed. "You would think I'd wise up enough to attend to my own chores." He shut the door after Tezuka, "Morishita was eighty-eight when you last saw him, he fought the good fight, and we had him buried in the family plot."

Tezuka took off his shoes.

"What about your maids?"

"I fired them." Atobe's tone was unexpectedly bitter, "You know, even with all the cracks I made, I didn't touch them. So it's a mystery to me how six of them could have become pregnant by me in the same month."

Tezuka said, "I"m sorry."

"No, you're not. You're probably thinking that I got what I deserved." His bitterness overcame his gentlemanly side, and he couldn't help but add, "...Fuji thought that."

He watched Tezuka's eyes when he said the name. There was a flicker of pain in the dark orbs, and then it was gone.

"Fuji and I aren't one inseparable entity, Atobe."

"No. I suppose not." Considering the fact that the two of them were now on two respective continents with an ocean between them. Atobe walked down the grand hall into the kitchen, and by the sound of his footsteps, Tezuka was following. "Do you want something to drink? I've got cognac."

"You drink?" The question was evident in the other man's tone.

"Sometimes. When there's nothing better to do." Atobe filled up the glass he had been using earlier. "Want some?"

"No."

Atobe's hand only shook a little.

"Atobe, you've become...really pathetic."

But there was no pity in Tezuka's voice, there was no guilt either, in admitting something like that. Instead, in his voice, there was rich amazement, as if he didn't understand how someone from the top of the world could have fallen so quickly. Atobe tossed him a look and drained the glass, "Says you, and everyone else. Say it enough times, I might believe it."

"Atobe--"

"Forget it. I want to go sit down, let's go into the sitting room."

Tezuka followed him. Atobe settled himself into his usual armchair. And his guest stood there, admiring his cards on the mantle.

"You really are by yourself."

Atobe held his tongue, he wanted to wait until Tezuka reached that plain card at the end, so he could sneer and say the same. But when Tezuka did, his expression was so lost that all Atobe could do was get up and stand beside him.

And for once, he found no glory because of the lost light in Tezuka's eyes.

--

"His name is Gabriel Martin, he's a photographer that Fuji met when he went to a seminar in Paris. They were friends...and that was all." Tezuka spoke softly, eyes fastened on the card still. "He was young, and he liked to do a lot of dangerous things. He took Fuji skydiving once...and Fuji came back with this story about how he'd almost died since his chute almost didn't open up in time...he said he'd almost died, and the feeling was exhilarating."

Atobe said nothing.

Welcomed by the silence, perhaps, Tezuka continued. As he spoke, he took the card down from its place and flipped it open.

"I thought about that a long time afterwards. Why would I value someone who called nearly losing his own life exhilarating? Perhaps it's inevitable that Gabriel Martin would steal Fuji from me. But I've always had everything I'd wanted. I was—I mean, I am lucky."

Whereas Atobe was not. The bitterness of his mouth craved for more cognac.

"Are you mad at him for it?"

"No. Not really." Tezuka put the card back, "Although...like everyone else, I wish things could have turned out differently." He walked to Atobe's usual chair and sat on it. Atobe just turned and watched him, unable to speak.

"Is that...why you started smoking?"

"Smoking?" Tezuka looked at him, uncomprehending, "Oh, smoking. I did that to see if he would notice."

Atobe walked measured steps to the armchair. "Did he?"

"No."

"Why didn't you stop?"

"Because. I don't know." Tezuka shrugged. He made even a careless shrug seem eloquent. And then he looked at Atobe, "What about you?"

"What about me?" Atobe suddenly looked guarded.

"Why are you here? Why aren't you at the top of the world like you promised everyone you would be?"

Atobe looked down at the carpet, "Because after you left, there was that mess with all the maids saying they were pregnant. I learned a few things about fidelity. I wanted you and no one else. I climbed there, you know. The top of the world, it was lonely there so I looked down. Like you said."

"Atobe--"

Atobe swallowed, "It's probably not fair to say this now...but I don't want to be on the top of the world if you won't be there with me." And then he dared looked up, "I haven't been this selfish in a long time, Tezuka."

--

It took Atobe a few moments to figure out what was going on, but he found that he couldn't quite speak, he couldn't quite breathe, either. Tezuka was gone from the armchair....

and was kissing him.

Atobe's heart beat faster until it threatened to leap out of his chest altogether. But at last, he found the strength to push Tezuka away, the kisses though, still lingered hungrily on his lips. "Tezuka..." The name came out not quite attached to the rest of him.

"We can't."

"Why not?"

Atobe suddenly hated it, the way Tezuka's voice made him shiver like that. It made him dizzy, and his knees weak.

"Because Fuji--"

"Doesn't matter." Tezuka finished with a bite in his tone. "I left, and he did not stop me, and it doesn't matter. You though..." Warm hands cupped his face, "You gave up something for me, even when I didn't ask for it. You gave up the top of the world and all that you could have had. And to think, that I may not have returned to you at all, I would have never known you found it in your selfishness to give me any of these things."

"To me, that is enough, _Keigo._"

--

Making love with Tezuka Kunimitsu didn't turn out to be a pleasant affair, and the first few minutes, Atobe had to wonder why and how Fuji would have enjoyed this on a regular basis. It was _painful_, and as he bared himself to Tezuka on his bed, everything felt raw. Even his soul felt like it was on fire, threatening to swallow him whole.

The kisses always bit, and Atobe was pretty sure there was more than one cut on his bruised lips.

But Tezuka was warm above him.

Later, they lay in a careless nude tangle and Atobe traced his fingers idly on Tezuka's arm.

"I'll take you to the top of the world, Keigo."

"I hate the top of the world." Atobe said, licking blood from his lips.

Uncharacteristic of Tezuka, he wore a vague smirk, "Not this time, just look up." This time, when his hand turned Atobe's face around for a kiss, it was gentle, and it was more searing than any of the bruises that Tezuka had implanted on his skin because it held a solemn promise.

His eyelids were heavy, but Atobe still caught the double meaning, even when they were young, Tezuka enjoyed lording the four inches over Atobe. Even after all the years, evidently Tezuka had never forgotten.

"Very funny."

--

Oshitari hated to admit it, but perhaps pushing Atobe back to the top of the world via the conveniently single Tezuka had not worked out so swell for him after all. The plan was to have Atobe so smitten with the man that he had been smitten with for so long that he no longer remembered Oshitari's existence. It would seem that Atobe not only remembered, but made sure that Oshitari's presence was insisting.

Because right there, without warning in the large empty office, was a note on the mahogany desk. Written neatly in impeccable script and Atobe's stationary. Oshitari groaned, he could only imagine how Atobe's smirk had split his lips as he penned it, but then again, his lips were so red and bruised these days, that one could hardly tell the difference.

Whatever the case, Oshitari did not envy him.

_Gone to Barcelona, will be back in a week._

_P.S. Will send a proper souvenir. (Because I'm not a cheapskate like you.)_

_-_

_Owari_

_(1-27-09)_

_-  
_


End file.
